A Horrid Nightmare (27 years old)

Atka was asleep in her bed after the festivities of another mission accomplished. She knew that her true mission was still a bust, yet she could feel she was getting closer. Would he appreciate her more if she accomplished it? Would it break the anhedonic spell over him? She moved her hand to her navel and felt herself waking up. Oh, I hope so, she thought. Atka let her eyes open softly and meet the ceiling of the room. The light of a small candle twinkled near her open window.
 
Something smelled though. She smelled something truly burning; burning of ash, perhaps. It was strong, too. She leaned up in her bed and saw a familiar figure standing at it’s foot. Mamnen? No… worse! It was--
 
“I hear your pain, you know. You’re so alone and afraid. I hear you cry out in the night for me.” That smooth, self-assured voice… She hated it. It brought her right back to that night of her parents’ tragedy.
 
“Away, devil!” Atka said and reached for the sword next to her bed only to find it not there. She looked back at Ire, the only name she truly knew him by, the name her mother called him. He grinned and shook a finger at her.
 
“Ah, ah, ah. They call me ‘devil.’ But it’s your heart that’s empty. I call you ‘devil.’ I wouldn’t try and tempt you.”
 
“What are you talking about?” she asked, regretting it immediately. He grinned a grin that she probably had worn herself a time or two and suddenly she understood. “You take it back! I am nothing like you or devils. I--”
 
“Serve your own interests, I know. But how about it? If you could get my soul to save Jone’s lot, you would, wouldn’t you?”
 
“I...”
 
“Atka Marduk, so sheepish… You know that I already know that it may be midnight or midday, you would do anything to save her.”
 
Atka had enough. Haughtily, she drew herself from the bed, standing on it to tower over him and bending down to lock horns. “I’d die for her freedom.”
 
There brimmed a flicker of delight in his eyes, his ruby skin almost beginning to glow like embers in what was left of the candlelight. “Why use your venom on me? I don’t want Jone in a mine on this plane, and neither do you.”
 
“I want her on this plane.”
 
“I want me on this plane, I want her on this plane, I want you on this plane.”
 
I don’t understand, she thought. Let me show you, she heard his voice in her head. Loudly she screamed in her mind, hoping the “noise” would cause him to flinch and drown him out. He didn’t move. She truly did not understand telepathy. She doubted that would’ve worked on the Ring Master either.
 
He reached a clawed hand up behind her, running it up her back. It sent chills down it, and not in a way that she welcomed. She was abruptly petrified. He gripped the back of her head, horns still locked with his and her hair all tangled and bunched up around his hand. He whispered, “I’ll steal your soul. They call me ‘devil.’ You should be afraid.”
 
She felt heat from the palm of his hand. “Please!” she exclaimed. “Please, if you help me get my mother out, I’ll do something to help you get out of Hell. If that’s what you want. I don’t know what.”
 
He lifted her up. “I am out of Hell. Don’t tempt me, devil!”
 
That snapped her out of her panic. “Don’t tell me ‘don’t!’” she yelled and wrapped legs around his waist. She used every ounce of strength she had to lean back into his hand, drawing him forward at the waist and toppling them over onto the bed. She expected his weight to topple with hers, but when she landed and opened her eyes, she saw a dark, empty room. She couldn’t even see the ceiling. The candle was out, the window was closed, and she casually glanced next to the bed to see her sword sitting in its proper spot.
 
“It was a night terror…” she murmured. “Never had one as an adult before… He… called me ‘devil.’” She paused slightly and made her way to a mirror on the other side of the room. “Me. Devil.” She forced a smarmy grin to see how much she looked like him, gasped at the likeness, and staggered back to sit on the bed. She buried her face in both hands and cried herself into morning.